


Dancing Lights and the Pressure of Your Palm

by inkberrry



Series: Daggers and Dancing Lights [3]
Category: Baldur's Gate, baldur's gate 3
Genre: Confessions, Deep Conversations, Fluff, M/M, Pining, growing closer, magic as flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27216619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkberrry/pseuds/inkberrry
Summary: Vehnrix has a little magic of his own, and Gale is soon to be lost in it.
Relationships: gale/original character
Series: Daggers and Dancing Lights [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992658
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of course inspired by the cut scene where you stand in the Weave with Gale. I can't stop writing about these two. Thanks for reading!

Lights bounced above Vehnrix’s fingers, shimmering blue and silver and catching stray beams of the moon. They pulsed deeper, then brighter, flexing their color before swirling and mixing. They grew in size, melding together to form a ball the tiefling held in his palm, systematically pressing each of his fingertips over it like he was playing a new, unknown instrument.

Gale watched from nearby, hidden half behind a boulder. He had been looking for Vehnrix, who was conspicuously missing from the fireside, though he had not expected to find him in the midst of a display of magic. The glow of the lights stopped Gale from calling out and he stood frozen, entranced by the scene a few feet away.

Vehnrix was watching the lights too, the unworldly blue of his eyes matching the magic he summoned. Gale saw it reflect there, dancing along his irises. His lips were parted, his breath steady as he concentrated. Even the air around him was still with anticipation, waiting to see how far the spell could be carried. 

It brought to mind the night they shared in the Weave together. The warmth of it around them, pushing them closer. The image that flashed before his eyes, of Vehnrix’s lips pressed to his. Of feelings long since felt building in heat once again. Magic and Vehnrix, mixing together and pulling Gale helplessly along. 

The lights flashed brighter, illuminating the rogue’s face. He was smiling now, his lips curved and revealing sharp, white teeth. 

“I know you’re there, Gale.”

The sudden call of his name caused Gale to stumble forward, revealing his position behind the stone. 

“Oh! I-“ he started, sheepish and with a rush of heat to his cheeks at being discovered. He felt the intimate moment fade away the same way as did the lights in Vehnrix’s palm. His concentration had been broken, the magic released. The night was darker now, and Gale walked the small distance between them carefully. He sat down next to Vehnrix and offered his own smile, as apologetic as he could make it. 

“I should have guessed it would be difficult to sneak up on you,” he said, and _of course_ he realized that now. Vehnrix likely knew the instant Gale noticed him. There were few people Gale had met with such spectacular perception as the tiefling. 

Vehnrix’s only answer was a quiet chuckle, and Gale followed his gaze to his fingers, now devoid of light. 

“Those were very good, by the way,” he added. 

This time Vehnrix turned to Gale, his expression bordering on a smirk. “Were they?”

“Well… they were _good_ ,” Gale repeated, wincing a little at being caught yet again. The lights were rudimentary at best, but he couldn’t deny his urge to praise Vehnrix’s efforts. Shaping the Weave was not so simple a task, and the fact the rogue could do as much as he showcased was a feat in itself. 

“Thanks,” Vehnrix said, and he settled back, resting his shoulders against a large rock. Gale caught sight of his tail flicking near his knee, making haphazard etchings in the dirt. “I’ve been practicing. This and a few other things.”

“How very studious of you.” The admission came as a surprise; they had been together nearly every minute lately. When they weren’t traveling the blood soaked roads they were here at camp, seated more often than not by the fire, sharing stories and meals. Whatever time Vehnrix used for practicing Gale must have been asleep for. He had been paying far too much attention to miss something so interesting .

“I am impressed, to be honest,” he went on, covering his moment of reflection with a wide sweep of his hand. “The Weave is a difficult thing to grasp so quickly. We may make a wizard out of you yet.”

He expected a laugh from Vehnrix, or at the very least another chuckle. What he got instead was a sigh, and the lowering of his chin as he stared again at his palm.

“I don’t think so.” His voice was little more than a whisper, and Gale leaned in to hear with more clarity. “My dad was good at this stuff, though.”

It was the first time Vehnrix had spoken of his family. During their many conversations he told of the past, of his childhood, of the places he’d been, but never of those close to him. Never of a father. Gale never pried — there were reasons why people kept parts of themselves secret. He knew that better than most. He was intrigued at this new mention, though, both with curiosity and a soft elation that Vehnrix was ready to share more of himself. 

“Ah, so magic runs in the family?” Gale nodded as he spoke, mentally ticking off all the wizards he knew with such a lineage. “That does happen from time to time. Children get off with a head start, thanks to their parents. Was he quite skilled?”

“Skilled enough. He taught me this.”

Vehnrix’s lips had only ceased moving an instant before they were no longer his own. In place of Vehnrix’s face was Gale’s, mirrored back to him with perfection. Every blemish, every scar, every speck of color in his eyes — it was like looking into a reflection, but one that lived and breathed on its own.

The disguise dropped as quickly as it had been placed. Vehnrix’s visage returned, though his expression was darker than before. 

“Well look at that!” Gale exclaimed, leaning forward yet again, a surge of excitement tingling through his body. He could feel the Weave around them again, sparking with the power Vehnrix called forth. “Now _that_ was very good!”

Vehnrix scoffed, a sound unfamiliar and coming from the back of his throat. Gale pulled back, trying to push away the praise and multitude of questions he had about the magic. There was something about Vehnrix’s changed demeanor that cautioned against them, so instead he lowered his voice to match the new somber mood. 

“But… that upsets you?” he asked. 

“You could say that.” When Vehnrix looked back at Gale his gaze was firm, and a hidden boiling of rage just below the surface of his words sent a shiver down Gale’s spine. “I won’t disguise who I am. I’m not a coward.”

Gale wasn’t certain how the two concepts connected, but he didn’t question it. 

“Of course you’re not,” he assured. “I’ve met few braver than you.”

It was the truth, and Vehnrix must have sensed that. He forced out a smile and reached over to pat Gale on the shoulder. “Thanks. I _do_ love getting complimented by you.”

Gale thought better of responding again, mistrustful of what he might say. He didn’t know what there was to say. Instead he looked out to the river in the distance and watched the moonlight brush its surface, moving gently with the current. 

It was some time later when Vehnrix broke the silence without warning.

“My father used that spell to trick my mother.” The sharp snap of a twig breaking drew Gale’s attention to Vehnrix’s tail, now moving restlessly at his side. “He says it was all for love. All the lies and deceit were for love.”

Gale waited a moment for elaboration, and when it didn’t come he simply nodded.

“Love makes you do strange things.”

“Does it?” Vehnrix’s eyes turned cold, the dancing lights now a distant memory. “Love has never made me lie. Has it you?”

Startled at the sudden venom, Gale shifted back against the rock. _No, love had never made him lie._ Only things far, far worse. He felt the weight of the things he’d done for love in his chest, heavy and immobile. They pulled at him, shackled him, kept him in constant fear of the moment they would crush him. 

“No,” he replied, his own voice soft now. A face flashed behind his eyes, lovely and far, far away. “But it has made me make mistakes. Terrible ones.”

At his words Vehnrix’s expression softened. Regret, maybe, Gale thought. The lashing out hadn’t been intentional; Gale could understand that, too. 

“I’m sorry; no need for this heavy conversation, right?” This time Vehnrix’s smile wasn’t quite so forced, but Gale knew it was lacking its usual charm. He missed it, he realized. He had last seen it not a handful of hours prior and yet he found himself aching to see it again already.

“Unless you’d like to continue,” Gale answered. As much as he wanted the mood lightened, he wanted even more for Vehnrix to be feel comfortable sharing his burdens. “I’ll listen to anything you wish to share.”

Vehnrix sighed, his chest filling fully before he exhaled. He reached behind him, and when he he brought his hand back into the light he was holding a small flask. There was something engraved in the metal, but from where he sat Gale couldn’t make out the details. 

“I’d like to share this,” he said, motioning to the held bottle. “And this.”

With his free hand he took hold of Gale’s wrist and slowly slid his fingers up his palm. They brushed over his own fingers, Vehnrix’s strong and agile, ending in dagger sharp claws, and his long and delicate, trembling slightly. When he reached the fingertips Vehnrix pressed in, and suddenly it wasn’t only their skin connecting them but the Weave, glimmering and rising all around them. Light, soft and comforting, emanated from the places on Gale’s fingers where Vehnrix touched, casting shadows over his face. 

Gale felt magic flowing out of Vehnrix and into him from every point of contact. The light spell bound them together, cocooning them in its peaceful aura. The glow was again reflected in Vehnrix’s eyes, his lips once more parted. His breath was sweet, his hand warm. 

Gale’s heart sped up as the rest of the world faded away. There was only the Weave, and Vehnrix. He envisioned kissing him, and knew the image would replay in Vehnrix’s mind. 

Leaning in, he added own power to the spell, casting light far into the night. 

The surge of magic sparked into their touching fingers, and Vehnrix pulled away, startled. Gale watched as he blinked, as if recovering from some other hidden spell, then laughed. He held up the flask and shook it. 

“A drink,” he reminded Gale. 

“Y-yes, right.” Gale cleared his throat, too thick to form a coherent answer. He tried to push the thought of Vehnrix’s lips away, but they clung as stubborn as cobwebs to his skin. Judging by the playful smirk on Vehnrix’s face he was enjoying the lasting image, too. 

Grabbing the flask from Vehnrix’s hand, Gale unscrewed the top and brought it to his lips, hastily covering up the flushing of his cheeks. “A toast, then. To your budding magical talent.”

Vehnrix nodded and retrieved the flask after Gale drank. 

“And to things yet to come,” he promised. 


	2. Chapter 2

The spark of Vehnrix’s magic lingered on Gale’s fingertips long after the tiefling excused himself to bed. He felt it move across his skin, light and playful in a way magic had never been for Gale. It wasn’t a concussive force, or a deep, aching pull. It was bright and weightless and sweet; Weave made with gentle intentions and passed to him with care. 

Gale pressed the tip of his index finger to his lips, the sensation transferring. 

Sighing, he let his hand drop to side. Tonight marked twice he had Vehnrix so close, both their thoughts — shared through the Weave — set on the other’s lips. And twice the moment passed, thanks to actions of his own. First the surprise of the tiefling eager for a kiss at all, shocking Gale into a moment of hesitation. Second, tonight, due to his own eagerness and the way it flared through his magic, this time shocking Vehnrix. 

Gale could curse himself he was so frustrated. 

But perhaps this was for the best, he thought. This was no place to fall in love, and who was he to allow himself that luxury? He had his chance before, had spent so long tucked away in a world inundated with romance and intimacy and what he perceived as love. He had it all, back then, and it had been lost, partly of his own mistakes. What right did he have to seek it again?

Still, his thoughts refused to settle. They snuck back to the look Vehnrix wore only hours before: lips parted, eyes shining, a flush high on his cheeks. Gale would give much to see that look again. And what would it hurt to give in to the possibility just a little? To not hesitate, to speak a word of his feelings and desire to the tiefling? He was confident it was requited; that much he had seen for himself when the Weave connected them. 

His gaze shifting back to camp, picking out where Vehnrix curled near the fire, Gale resolved to speak with him when next he got the chance. The rogue had so readily accepted the truth of Gale’s condition and the history behind it, it was the least he could to speak of this newer, closer secret. Vehnrix deserved to know. And Gale had doubts he could keep it to himself much longer, anyway. 

* * *

The morning found Gale bedraggled and in need of more rest than he managed. His thoughts kept him awake long into the night, and every time he looked over at the sleeping bundle of furs and blankets that was Vehnrix sleep was chased further and further away. 

He groaned as he hefted himself to his feet, stretching out under wrinkled robes. Another side effect of travel, he mused, doing his best to smooth out a particularly worn patch of fabric. His first stop in Baldur’s Gate would most certainly be a tailor. 

“Good morning, Gale.” Vehnrix’s cheery voice drew his attention, and he noted with a brief flash of disdain that the tiefling looked as put together as if he’d just stepped out from a fresh bath. “You look like you hardly slept. I should have dragged you to bed with me last night, to make sure you did.”

“Perhaps you should have,” Gale replied, his foul mood of the morning vanishing in light of Vehnrix’s smile and usual banter. “Though I am uncertain how restful a night in your bed would be.”

Vehnrix paused in his act of packing away his bedroll and laughed. His tail curved behind him, scratching at the dirt in quick, excited movements. Gale watched it for a moment, knowing by now that most hints at Vehnrix’s true emotions were given by the state of his tail and little else. 

“Stop, stop, it’s too early for all this flirting,” Vehnrix playfully pleaded. He tucked his bedroll into his pack and took a step closer to wink at Gale. “You’ll wear me out before we even leave camp.”

The image from last night of Vehnrix’s lips close to his played back in Gale’s mind when he stepped close. He could press on — gods knew he had a penchant for flirting — but instead he simply gave a small half bow and smiled. 

“At your insistence, I’ll save it for later,” he promised. Then, before Vehnrix could turn away and his determination falter, he continued. “In fact, there is something I’d like to discuss later. If you’d indulge me.”

“I will happily indulge you, Gale. Just say the word.” 

The double meaning in Vehnrix’s answer was not lost on Gale. He chuckled and braved a quick squeeze of Vehnrix’s shoulder. 

“Later,” he said. Then, putting away his own bedroll, began to walk toward the cooking fire. “For now, onward to breakfast. I’m famished.”

* * *

Two meals later and Gale finally found time to steal Vehnrix away from the others. They sat by the river again, in near the same spot as the night before. Vehnrix was busy licking stray honey from his fingers after the treat Gale made for them, which had consumed a fair bit of the remaining flour stored in his rations. It had been worth it, though. Vehnrix’s eyes lit up at the mention of something sweet, and Gale had found a new way to make the tiefling happy. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Vehnrix said, sighing in satisfaction and leaning his back against the still sun-warm stone. “I like your cooking.”

“And I like when you compliment me!” Gale nudged Vehnrix’s shoulder and smiled. He wiped his own fingers on a small handkerchief before pushing it back into a concealed robe pocket. “I’m glad you enjoyed. I do try my best out here, but you can’t find a decent rising agent for miles.” 

“How dreadful,” Vehnrix teased, slowly shaking his head. It wasn’t the first time Gale complained about lack of proper cooking materials, but Vehnrix never seemed to truly mind.

“Well, I make do,” he said, taking the teasing tone in stride. It was easy with Vehnrix; no comment was meant to hurt, no deeper, malicious intent hidden behind soft promises or pleasing laughter. His intentions might not always shine though, Gale noticed, but the kindness behind them certainly did. 

Vehnrix didn’t have a reply to that, and soon the sound of the river covered their comfortable silence. Gale rested his head back against the stone and let his eyes shut to the setting sun. He felt Vehnrix’s hand moving next to him, perhaps idling plucking at the grass or fingering his sword. 

Gale himself was still as he attempted to gather his thoughts. It had been a long while since he put to words feelings like the ones that welled in his heart whenever Vehnrix’s nimble hands accidentally brushed his. A long while and a different place; a different version of himself. One younger and less worried over the future, and one that did not fear the consequences of his actions. 

Now, the peace of the waning evening hanging over him and the sweet taste of honey still on lips, Gale _was_ worried, and he _was_ afraid. He had found something precious and for once truly understood the value, and the devastation, of such a thing. 

When he finally opened his eyes the sun was halfway past the horizon. The warmth still lingered, giving him a boost of needed courage. Turning slightly, he caught Vehnrix’s attention and took a steadying breath. 

“Vehnrix, I’d like to tell you something but —“ 

“ — But I have to promise not to ask questions,” Vehnrix interrupted, laughing into the darkening night. Gale couldn’t help but chuckle too, the tension of the moment broken. He supposed this wasn’t the first time he’d made such a proclamation to the tiefling, and like the last, he hoped Vehnrix took it just as well. 

“No, you can ask as many as you you’d like,” he said, considering only after he’d already spoken. “Well, a few at least. Within reason. Nothing _too_ difficult.” 

Vehnrix just smiled and leaned back on an elbow, watching Gale and waiting for him to continue. It was moment before he did, the last spike of nerves clamping his lips shut until he saw the encouraging expression on Vehnrix’s face. Taking a breath, Gale nodded in decision, and forged ahead. 

“Have you heard the story of the water sprite and the widow?” 

Vehnrix’s answerer was a shake of his head, his hair tossed over a jutting horn. 

“It’s a story often told in Waterdeep, though maybe I overestimate its reach,” Gale explained. “It begins with a woman — a woman who has led a life she is proud of, who has loved and lived and enjoyed to the fullest. But in time she suffers a great loss at her own hands, and that pride and spark slips away. She begins to question the choices she made: who she loved, how she lived.”

Gale paused, his animated retelling of the story ceasing for a moment. He switched his gaze from Vehnrix’s face to the distant horizon, the sun now nearly gone. The timing was appropriate, he thought. A story such as this was best told in the dying light. 

“She goes through her days in somewhat of a daze after that,” he continued. “Living them but not truly feeling their passage. She thinks ‘this is what I have earned, penance for my deeds done.’ 

“But! One day on a trip to the river she spots a water sprite, splashing in the current. It is _full_ of life, so much it bubbles and sparks around the creature. ‘Come swim with me,’ it calls to her. She is tempted; she wishes for that carefree warmth. But she declines. That world is not meant for her any longer, she reasons. So she leaves, the echo of the water sprite’s cheery laughter following behind.”

Gale, caught up in the story now, turned back to find Vehnrix watching him closely. He was a captive audience, providing the stage Gale needed. Winking, he went on, adding flourish to his words. 

“The sound lingers in her mind, and for the next seven days she returns to the river. Each time the sprite calls to her, asking her again to join it. It promises nothing but laughter and good things, and it bares its small, beating heart to her. But our leading lady is stubborn, and she is at war with herself. Does she deserve that offer? Or is she meant to live the rest of her life damning her past?”

Again Gale paused, this time his shoulders slumping and his thoughts drifting. He knew when he chose this story the parallels would be evident; it was why he chose it, after all. Speaking it aloud made them all the more clear, and he felt the heavy weight of them press down on him. 

In time Vehnrix reached out, his fingers settling on Gale’s wrist. “How does it end?” he asked, and Gale realized he had cut the story off without its finale. 

“Oh, she gives in in the end,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “She plunges herself in the river and it is _not_ the warm embrace the sprite promised. The woman is never seen again, lost to whatever lays beneath the surface of the roiling current.” 

Vehnrix blinked, blue eyes hidden for a moment before he opened them and laughed. Gale imagined it sounded much like the water sprite in his story: full of life, bubbling from inside Vehnrix’s heart and tumbling towards him. 

“That’s a lovely story,” Vehnrix said, his fingers squeezing Gale’s wrist before lifting off and returning to their spot in his lap. “I can see why you wanted to tell it to me.”

The hint of sarcasm was soft. Gale wanted to laugh along with Vehnrix, to pass the story off as just that. Instead he took a deep breath and steeled himself to bring up the point he meant the tale to lead into. 

“Vehnrix,” he started, and reached over to grasp the tiefling’s hand in his own. It was warm, as it always was on the occasions Gale had the pleasure of holding it. He spoke his next words slow and clear, his eyes never leaving Vehnrix’s face. “I find myself incredibly drawn to you. More and more each day you fill my mind. You are an extraordinary treasure I have never quite seen the likes of.”

Something softened behind Vehnrix’s eyes, and the first sparkle of the night’s stars reflected back in their depths. 

“Gale,” he said, the laugher in his voice replaced by affection. Before he could continue, though, Gale held a finger up to stop his words.

“I am the widow in this story,” he said, his shoulders slumping further and head shaking in resignation. “I am resisting the pull, uncertain if I deserve what you promise to make me feel.”

And there it was: his feelings laid out, truth told and set free. His heart beat frantic in his chest, the worry over Vehnrix’s reply shaking him. Gale prided himself on his confidence, yet right now he felt young and uncertain in a way he hadn’t in years uncounted.

Vehnrix was slow to answer, and when he did he turned his hand in Gale’s and squeezed it tight. The sharp tips of his nails pressed into Gale’s palm, tiny pinpricks of pressure. 

“I’m no water sprite in a story,” he said firmly. “And you’re no less deserving of happiness and warmth than anyone else.”

“There are things you don’t know about me,” Gale argued, one last effort to ward away the feelings held back. One last attempt to warn Vehnrix that not everything about him was what it seemed, and that happiness and warmth with him may only be fleeting. 

“And there are things you don’t know about me,” Vehnrix replied with an easy shrug. “That’s what time is for, right?”

The tension held in Gale’s body released and left him feeling light and almost dizzy. Had he expected any less from Vehnrix than acceptance and comforting, gentle optimism? The tiefling with brimming with it, and it spilled over to fill the broken cracks and hollows in Gale’s heart. 

“Gods, you truly are something entirely special,” he said, soft and in awe of the building warmth between them. It was then he noticed how close Vehnrix was, and how hushed the night around them had become.

“Flatterer,” Vehnrix teased, and Gale was drawn to the movement of his lips, edging steadily closer. “Now will you kiss me? I’ve been waiting for weeks.”

Gale’s own lips lifted to a smile, the first since telling his story. He took his hand from Vehnrix and placed it at the back of the tiefling’s head, the other on his cheek. His skin was smooth, marred only by the faint sticky trace of missed honey. 

“With utmost pleasure,” Gale whispered, and this time neither of them were shocked away or plagued with hesitancy. Their lips met, Vehnrix’s tasting sweet, Gale’s searching for the magic he knew resided within and finding it in the subtle spark that connected them. 


End file.
